


a lifetime with you: a kate/anthony ficlet collection

by prncesselene



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: A little bit of everything, F/M, Ficlet Collection, prompts taken from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:47:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prncesselene/pseuds/prncesselene
Summary: a collection of kate/anthony prompt responses taken from tumblr! too short to stand on their own, too long to stay on tumblr in perpetuityratings included in the chapter titles for each one :)
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield
Comments: 81
Kudos: 307





	1. jealous!anthony (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt #1: "How about anything involving jealous Anthony? It can be something serious or something silly like Anthony gets annoyed with Kate gives all her attention to Newton or someone else."

“This spring is shaping up to be a fair one, is it not?”

Kate forced her lips into a smile, bobbing her head up and down. “Indeed.”

It was interesting, really, looking back at it all now.

In all the conversations she’d had leading up to her marriage, no one had thought to tell Kate about just how… _political_ it would be, to become a Viscountess.

It seemed no matter where she went, everyone wanted something from her. In the most innocent of cases, it was merely friendship; something of an alliance to make it through the often dizzying London social scene alive. In others, people clearly wanted something they thought it was in her power to provide. She’d more or less learned how to decipher one motive from the other, to understand what a person wanted from her as soon as they began speaking.

But she wasn’t sure what to make of Lord Ashbrook.

He was perfectly polite. A true gentleman, in every sense of the word. He’d introduced himself to her only moments ago and was making polite, idle chatter while Kate slowly calculated what he might want.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat. “Lady Bridgerton, I do hope you’ll excuse my impropriety. The truth is, I was wondering…” he leaned closer, lowering his voice.

* * *

Anthony was going to _murder_ Lord Ashbrook.

He’d never actually considered himself to be the murderous sort — duels initiated to protect a sibling’s honor very much notwithstanding — but the impeccably dressed man standing across the room whose face was currently leaning far, far too close to his wife’s for comfort was adeptly testing that virtue of his.

He clenched his fists. The words Colin was saying at his side were quickly disappearing into thin air as he watched the two, a thick, uncomfortable feeling unfurling in his chest. The more Lord Ashbrook — pompous, middling imbecile that he was — spoke, the more that feeling intensified.

And then— 

No.

Was Kate... giggling?

His eyes must have been deceiving him. Kate didn’t giggle. Not in anyone’s company that wasn’t his, anyways.

Anthony tried to follow Colin’s conversation, something about Rome or Florence or some other Mediteranean location and his future plans to visit, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It wasn’t improper for the two of them to speak freely, necessarily. Married women were able to exercise certain levels of independence without raising many eyebrows, and these days it was all too common for them to find pleasures elsewhere when those in the home were lacking.

He shook his head. These thoughts were ridiculous, and he knew Kate would never do such a thing. He had to admit she was her own person, and if she had found a friend in Lord Ashbrook… well. 

He supposed even _she_ was not perfect.

“—are you listening, brother?”

“What?” Anthony grunted. “Yes, yes, something about lemons and olive oil. I heard you.”

Except that Kate was leaning forward now, responding to whatever it was Lord Ashbrook was saying in kind, and Anthony was sure his vision was growing red. 

Colin barked out a laugh, catching onto the source of his brother’s inattentiveness. “Anthony, why don’t you—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” he responded, unable to bear it any longer, leaving Colin behind. The crowd was buzzing with the sort of energy typical to most busy ballrooms, making it that much easier for Anthony to cross the room in long strides until he was at Kate’s side.

“Lord Ashbrook,” he nodded, by way of greeting. “Might I steal my wife for a dance?”

Kate’s arm easily slipped into his. “My love, we’ve danced twice already. It would be most improper to go for a third, don’t you think?”

“I can’t seem to help myself,” he smiled through gritted teeth, daring the man in front of him to argue. “May I?”

Rather than give anyone present a chance to protest, Anthony simply led Kate to the dance floor, keeping a firm grip on her waist.

“Did you really miss me that much?” she teased as the music began, a playful smile gracing her features. When he didn’t reply, his menacing gaze squared directly at a lonely Lord Ashbrook standing against the wall, her smile vanished. She tugged at his ear. “Anthony?”

He didn’t answer, distracted as he was. She tugged at his lobe again.

“Hm?”

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he said, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before returning his attention to the wall. At this rate, he’d burn two holes into the wallpaper. “I merely wanted to dance with you again, is that so wrong?”

“As we are hardly dancing, I am finding it difficult to believe you,” Kate countered, watching the way their feet moved a half step behind everyone else’s. She furrowed her brows, turning around to follow his eyes, then turning back and forcing his gaze. “Is this about Lord Ashbrook?”

Anthony’s hold around her tightened, though he did not reply. The tune of the pianoforte continued merrily as he struggled with the emotions he dared not name. 

“It is,” Kate gasped, amusement lighting her features. “What has he ever done to you?”

That thick, hot feeling in his chest returned. “Perhaps you might be able to tell me, what with all the giggling you were doing,” he said. “I’d love to know what was so funny.”

She tilted her head. “What?”

Anthony tightened his jaw, his discomfort growing. He shouldn’t have said anything. “Nothing. It’s— nevermind.”

Conveniently, the song ended, prompting everyone on the dance floor to stop and go their separate ways. Or, in Anthony’s case, turn abruptly and head towards the terrace.

He needed fresh air — _immediately_. 

Kate followed him out onto the secluded balcony, the night air chilly for early March. “Anthony,” she moved closer, her tone cautious. “What did Lord Ashbrook do? Is he… disreputable?”

Anthony fought the urge to roll his eyes. “As disreputable as the next blithering idiot who thinks flirting openly with married women is acceptable.”

Realization dawned on Kate’s face, her eyes widening, followed by a spark of amusement. “Wait a moment. Are you… _jealous_?”

“Of course not,” he muttered, turning to watch the grounds below them. “I am merely… cautious, when it comes to the men of the ton. Most of them are scoundrels, you understand. I am keeping you safe. And making sure you spend less time batting your eyelashes at them.”

Anthony felt Kate’s arms come around him from behind, her chin pressed against his back. “It’s alright if you are. I won’t get upset.”

He turned, his own arms coming around her waist. “You won’t?”

She shook her head sweetly. “There are better ways of asserting dominance, surely, but… it was quite amusing, watching you get all riled up like that. I might have liked it.”

Her voice was like honey, soft and smooth and precisely the balm he needed. “I was a bit of a brute, wasn’t I?”

“Just a bit. But you are _my_ brute, after all. That, at least, has been a fact since our wedding night.”

Anthony chuckled, tightening his grip around her and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “As long as I remain yours and you remain mine, I believe I can manage the rest. I will rein in the brutishness moving forward.”

Kate smiled, her dark eyes bright and teasing in the moonlight. “Oh, don’t get carried away, now. I cannot deny that it felt nice to be so desired, watching you lay your claim. I may have to flirt with other men more often.”

Anthony’s smile was devilish in the seconds before he lunged at her, Kate’s squeals and giggles in the moonlight suddenly much more acceptable than they had been before. “I’d like to see you try.”

* * *

Later, as Anthony ran his fingers through Kate’s hair while they slowly dozed off in bed, he remembered a question that had been on the tip of his tongue, just before they’d escaped the ball early and thrown themselves at each other.

“What did he want, anyway? Lord Ashbrook? The conversation seemed riveting.”

He was quite confident he’d eliminated any threat the man posed, if the sleepy, sated wife draped across his chest was any indication. 

“Oh,” Kate chuckled to herself, her own fingers running absently across his chest. “Are you quite sure you’d like to know?” 

Anthony shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” 

“Well... If you’ll believe it, he was asking me about Eloise. It seems he intends to court her this season.”

Anthony’s eyes widened, freshly stoked anger boiling over him once more while Kate watched her husband in adoring bemusement. 

“ _Absolutely_ _not_.”


	2. kate with the younger bridgertons (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Kate ever the older sibling immediately takes to the younger Bridgertons and Anthony falls a little harder (set during Anthony’s “nope I can’t love my wife, not me” phase)"

Anthony pored over the accounts in front of him, the numbers and information on the pages stable and dependable. The work had come on stronger in the weeks since his wedding, which had led to a host of incredibly busy days for the young Viscount upon his arrival back in London. 

This was good. Work was _good._ It kept his mind sharp, it made sure he stayed busy, and perhaps most importantly: it meant he was not thinking about his wife.

(It was a task he was resolutely failing as of late.)

They had only been married for two weeks, and already he felt himself far too happy. 

He didn’t _love_ Kate, of course, he’d made sure of that. But he could not deny she’d proven to be a much better companion than he might have ever hoped for. Kind, compassionate and intelligent, with a wit so sharp he was unsure how it was her barbs felt so sweet — and then at night…

Anthony shook his head. This was _precisely_ the problem. She occupied his thoughts far too much, and what he needed to do was focus on his work.

Which became increasingly difficult to do, as the moment he forced his head back down, there was a knock at the door of his study.

“Anthony?”

Kate had a tendency to take Anthony’s breath away, and today was no different. 

(His attraction to her was growing slightly out of hand. This, he would admit. How else to explain that burst of light in his chest, whenever she graced a room with her presence?)

Her gown was of a soft lavender color, one that highlighted the mesmerizing darkness of her hair.

(Then again, was there anything Kate wore that did not compliment her?)

She looked regal, like some sort of Empress, and yet the way she tapped her fingers nervously against the door signaled there was more to her appearance than a mere desire to see him.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” she turned to check for something in the hallway and then turned back to face him, smiling, though there was an edge to it. “Are you very busy this afternoon?”

“I suppose it depends,” he grinned, ready to put his papers away at a moment's notice for a very particular activity if she so desired. “What do you need?”

Kate opened her mouth to reply, but before she could do so, two vaguely chestnut-colored whirlwinds stormed into his study, followed by Newton’s excited barks and taps on the hardwood floor behind them.

“Anthony!”

“We’re so pleased you’re back!”

“I’ve learned a new song on the pianoforte, I must sho—”

“I taught Newton how to sit just now! I think he’ll—”

“I was speaking first, Gregory! Do _not_ interrupt me!”

“Well if you would speak like a _lady_ instead of shouting, then perhaps—”

“Settle down, the both of you,” Anthony bit down a laugh, forcing his most stern expression. “What is the meaning of all of this?”

“Kate came to see us yesterday,” Hyacinth floated to where the woman in question was primly seated on the armchair in front of his desk and took one of Kate’s arms in hers. “She told us we could come and stay!”

“Oh?” Anthony darted his eyes between the two younger Bridgertons and his wife, whose cheeks had become stained with pink.

“Just for the night,” Kate said, with a warm smile on her face. “I thought it might be nice. If you’re not busy, perhaps we can retire to the drawing room after dinner and play cards?”

“And I still want to show you that song. _Both_ of you. Please?”

Gregory was holding Newton now, attempting to act removed from the situation –– such was the attitude of a slowly growing young man –– though the glimmer in his eyes said otherwise. “And I get to play with him for a while. I like Newton.” 

Kate chuckled, reaching out to scratch the beast between the ears. “He likes you, too.”

Anthony’s heart fell just a bit, seeing his two youngest siblings so excited, each of them in their own ways. As a child, their father had made it a point to provide them all with quality time, but Gregory and Hyacinth hadn’t quite had the chance to receive the same sort of attention.

“Why wait until dinner?” He made a show of closing his books, meeting Kate’s eyes with a smile for a brief moment before standing up. “We can begin now.”

Hyacinth squealed — a most unladylike sound, but he was feeling charitable — and dragged Kate ahead of them, while Gregory carried Newton and Anthony followed closely behind.

That afternoon, he indulged in Hyacinth’s performances and engaged Gregory in his ambitious animal training — Kate’s dog did many things, but paying attention to commands was not high on the list — all the while watching his wife: gossipping with Hyacinth while they prepared tea, kneeling to show Gregory some sort of card trick, and answering any questions the two of them had about how she managed to win Anthony in the particularly noteworthy game of Pall Mall that had quickly become legend.

Regardless of what she did, he couldn’t help but notice that she fit right in.

(Or the way it made him feel fuller and happier than he had in a long, long time.)

After dinner and sweets, the four of them sat in the drawing room once again, while Newton slept peacefully by the fire. The atmosphere was so peaceful, so _quaint_ , that he couldn’t help it if he nudged Kate closer to him and inhaled the soft scent of her.

She was his wife after all — he didn’t need to love her to do any of that.

(Or to run his thumb across her knuckles softly. To closely watch the way her lashes fluttered when she was teasing the children and how her lips pursed when she was figuring out how to answer something. _Right_?)

“Thank you for bringing them,” he murmured in her ear, low enough that the two younger ones would not hear. “I didn’t realize how much I had missed them.”

“They missed you, too,” she smiled. “It’s a big change for them, I imagine. Having to leave their childhood home all because I turned up.”

“You’re natural with them. They like you.”

“It’s true,” Hyacinth said, grinning at them when they met her gaze and lacking any shame in having overheard their conversation. “We do. Very much. Right, Gregory?”

The boy nodded, an abashed expression on his own face.

Kate seemed to be at a loss for words, much to Anthony’s amusement. He gripped her tighter and was inordinately pleased when she sighed and dropped her head on his shoulder.

“I’m not sure what my brother did to deserve a wife like you,” Hyacinth continued, “but I dare say we are all the better for it.”

Kate blushed, waving away the compliment. She smiled and told the two of them, “When you’re older, I’ll tell you exactly what your brother did to lead us here.”

Hyacinth frowned, clearly confused as to what Kate meant, but too close to exhaustion to put up much of a fight. “Well. As long as my future husband loves me the way Anthony clearly loves you, it doesn’t quite matter how one gets there, I think.”

Kate smiled and fiddled with her hands, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I suppose so.”

Anthony tried to refute Hyacinth’s claim, if only internally, but he couldn’t.

Not when Kate was so sweet and warm against him; not after she’d set up an entire day for him to be with his siblings and enjoy their company; _especially_ not when it was clear she’d blended so seamlessly into his life, that he didn’t understand how he’d ever managed without her in it.

No. In that moment, Anthony only knew one thing for certain.

(He was in big, big trouble.)


	3. kate and anthony try something new (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kathony Prompt: Just because Anthony mentions several times in the books about wanting to tie Kate to their bed 👀 What about the first time time that happens?" + “Anthony confesses to Kate about his dreams of her but he doesn’t know she had a fantasy of her own about him. Or maybe more than one”

It had started as a joke.

At least — that’s what Kate _thought_ it had started as.

The first time had been on their wedding night. In his determination to assuage her insecurities, he’d made a stark, throwaway comment about forcing her to understand the way he saw her. To his credit, it had worked.

Then, it was something to say whenever they bickered; a way for Anthony to exert his masculinity and puff out his chest while they debated the minutiae of something inconsequential. If she continued to misbehave, or argue, or quarrel, he’d simply tie her to the bed and show her her place.

She indulged him in this show of pride not because she agreed, necessarily, but because… well, because a large part of her _wanted_ him to.

It didn’t make any sense, but each time he threatened her with images of her tied up on their bed, her body willing and pliant as he exercised his authority over her... she could not deny to herself the way it lit a fire that crackled in her spine, or the way it resulted in moisture that pooled between her legs.

Her patience had grown too thin to ignore one night when he'd made the comment _again_ , after she'd spent too much time in the kitchens that day with staff whilst preparing for a ball.

"You make it far too difficult to find you throughout the day," he murmured once he'd caught her, his arms wrapped around her thin dressing gown. "It's enough to make me want to tie you to the bed, keep you here for days. Do you know what it—"

"Why don't you, then?"

Kate was not of the disposition to act coy; he'd teased her with these new, wanton fantasies enough, and it was about time he followed through with them. Already, she felt herself growing warm when his arms tightened against her, his voice low and thrilling and deliciously _dangerous._ "What?"

She smiled to herself before turning around, masking her amusement under a stern glare. "Your threats are empty ones, constantly. Do you plan to tie me to the bed or _not_? "

It was a delight to notice the tension with which he swallowed, as well as the hunger that lit up his eyes. "Kate," he warned. "You would do well to mind your words..."

She shrugged. "Why? It's not as if you've given me a reason to believe you'd ever actually do such a thing."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Do you accept it?"

Anthony eyed the bed, then looked back at her, his expression quickly growing earnest. "Are you— Do you really want to...?"

Something hot and exciting unfurled in Kate's belly, the anticipation growing stronger now that he was taking her seriously. " _Yes_."

He turned quickly, rummaging through their cabinets, presumably to find something that they would be able to use. In the meantime, she rid herself of her dressing gown and waited. 

Her fantasies had cleverly excluded these moments of quiet preparation, the mundane act of waiting while they prepared to enact this strange idea, but that almost made it even better — this _wasn’t_ a fantasy. It was just her and Anthony.

She didn’t need anything else.

“Lie down,” he said, his voice thick with want. The words were spoken in a tone so authoritative that Kate had no choice but to comply.

Anthony liked to believe himself the rogue, but Kate knew well enough how honorable and kind he was at heart. And yet, it was thrilling to enjoy this version of him in such a new context, as opposed to stepping on his boots in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, and all that.

Anthony gestured at her arms and she raised them up over her head, watching with thinly veiled lust while he tied them to one of the bed posts. He was breathing heavily, too, although he tried to hide it. Kate tested the strength of the cravat by tugging gently, smiling when it didn't budge. She was well and truly trapped, now.

He stepped back to appreciate his craftsmanship, his brows furrowing when he ran his eyes over the rest of her form.

"Is there something wrong, my lord?" Kate said, testing the use of his title. It was odd, to be sure, but part of what made this so thrilling was the sense of power he held over her. Using his title to address him while she was quite literally at his mercy made it feel more... real, in a sense. Dangerous, powerful. 

It certainly added to the pleasure she was experiencing.

His, too, if his slack-jawed expression was any indication. He cleared his throat, running his hands over her stomach, her thighs. The slow pulsing between her legs was only growing stronger the more he teased her, but something told Kate that if she protested he'd only punish her further, so she tried to stay silent.

She closed her eyes when he finally had the sense to kiss her, desperate to throw her arms around him. Instead, she was forced to sit back while he lathered his attentions on her jaw, her clavicle, her breasts. He continued his way downward until she was practically mewling above him, his movements both too much and far, _far_ too little.

"Kate," he sighed against her, his breaths growing ragged. "My love... you truly have no idea, the amount of times I've thought of you... just like this. Even before..."

It was almost difficult to hear him, so much had he crowded her other senses, but there was at least some small part of her that remained capable of rational thought. "Before?"

"When you loathed me," he admitted, reaching up to kiss her again. "And I you, to be fair. I could not stand the sight of you, and yet... the thought of you kept me up at night. Far more than my pride would allow me to admit."

Kate bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed. Yes, upon meeting Anthony, he'd driven her mad, but she would be a liar if she pretended he hadn't had the very same effect on her. 

If he knew what she thought...

"Do you think I did not dream of you too?" she asked, her breath heavy. 

“You did?” 

Kate nodded. "So much so that I thought I was going mad."

Anthony nearly froze. His gaze when he met her eyes was predatory. "What kind of dreams?"

"I..." Kate tried her best to form a coherent sentence. He was running an absent hand over her thighs while he watched her try. "I thought of us... you... what we do now."

"You thought of it then?"

She nodded slowly, her heart beating furiously in her chest. "Many times."

He swallowed. His pupils were blown wide with desire, so much so that they looked entirely black. "And what exactly did we do, in these illicit dreams of yours?"

"We..." Kate sighed, catching her breath. They were doing almost nothing at this point, and yet the flames inside of her felt as though they would rip her apart, incinerating her from within. The hand that had been running absently across her thighs noticed the way she squirmed and resumed its teasing, albeit even _slower_.

"Tell me," he said. "Or I'll stop right here. Tell me what you saw."

"You were kissing me," she sighed, ready to yank the cravat off of the bedpost and force him on her. But she didn't. "You— you ripped my dress off in the library and... kissed me. Everywhere."

"Including here?" he gently nudged her legs open when she nodded. He licked his lips as soon as he did so, a movement that was not lost on Kate. For a second she thought he was going to do the very thing she'd just told him, but he stopped just before his mouth could reach.

She could kill him. She _should._

"What did you do, when these dreams woke you? Fall back asleep?"

Kate swallowed, her cheeks growing impossibly hotter.

No, she had not been able to fall back asleep when those dreams had afflicted her. Not until she had... rectified the issue.

She had been so unknowledgeable then, and yet it was as though her body had _known_.

"No," she said, desperate to regain mobility in her arms. "I had to... well, you know..."

He chuckled. "I don't think I do. Use your words, my love."

She was growing wetter by the second. She could feel it, and she knew that he knew it, too. He could probably _see_ it. "Anthony, please..."

"Did you do this?" he said, his fingers finding the sensitive space between her thighs. Kate almost hissed when she finally felt the contact, the pleasure made only more intense by the torturous wait. He made slow, decadent circles around her, the pent up energy bringing her close to her release incredibly quickly, the pressure building exponentially in her spine before he—

Stopped. His fingers stopped moving. 

Kate nearly growled, her chest heaving. “ _Anthony._ Wh— why did you…”

She was _absolutely_ going to kill him. 

“Is that what you did? All alone in your bedchamber, thinking of me?”

“Yes,” she forced herself to say.

He smiled. “ _Good_.”

The word sent shivers up her spine, the tiny bit of praise nearly enough to send her over the edge. She could have cried with relief when Anthony added to it by pressing his mouth the heat between her legs, ending her torture. 

He had a habit of kissing her there often, quite passionately, and Kate never managed to grow tired of it — not the way he did it, as though it were a gift _she_ were bestowing on _him_.

Maybe she wouldn’t need to murder her husband, after all.

Without the ability to move her arms, Kate was lost to the feeling of Anthony’s lips and tongue, unable to focus on anything other than the desire that coiled deep within her and threatened to burst. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, bared for him — it might have been minutes, and it might have been days.

All Kate knew was that the moment she fell apart against him it was as though stars had erupted in her vision, turning everything white and fuzzy. She was so overcome by her euphoria that she hadn’t even noticed when Anthony untied the restraints and pulled her close to him on the bed.

“Anthony,” she said, as soon as she regained her lucidity. “That was…”

“I know,” he chuckled, kissing the nape of her neck. “You did very well.”

Again, with the praise. Why did it have such an effect on her? It was nearly enough to rouse her body once more, much sooner than usual.

“And you… you don’t need—?”

“As long as you’re satisfied, I am, too,” he murmured. “For _now._ ”

Kate chuckled and sighed happily. She was certainly satisfied.

The truth was, it had felt _good_ to submit to him. To know that it wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly. To know that she could trust him with her body, and that in turn he trusted her with his.

That was what love was, wasn’t it? Giving yourself to someone, wholly and without restrictions. That's what she had done tonight — and it wasn’t illicit, or wrong. 

It was _freeing._

“Anthony?”

“Hm?”

“Promise me something.”

He kissed her again, just above her shoulder. “Anything.”

“Next time, it’s my turn to tie _you_ to the bed, and have my wicked way with you. I believe I have a very pretty lace ribbon I can use…”


	4. kate takes a bath (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "What about the first time they share a bath together? I could see Kate is already taking a bath when Anthony decides to join and she's flustered at first because sure they've been naked together but that is in a dark bedroom and this seems more intimate."

Kate hissed when her foot touched the water.

It was admittedly a bit of a challenge, lowering herself into the porcelain tub with an ankle that still hurt when she pressed too much weight on it, but she had grown tired of being helped whenever she so much as needed to take a drink of water. The moment her lady’s maids had helped her to the room, she’d promptly dismissed them and promised she’d ring if it became necessary.

To no one’s surprise, Kate did not take kindly to being rendered immobile.

She was desperate to do something that was just for her, to move even a little bit — and so, she’d arranged to have a bath drawn. Baths were no small luxury, of course, but it was one she supposed she could afford. Indeed, even her physician had recommended that she soak her foot in warm water to hasten the healing process. Why not soak the rest of her, too?

The water was nearly boiling when she stepped in, taking care to place all of her weight on her good leg, but she soon grew accustomed to the temperature. She felt her spirits rising as soon as she leaned back against the wall of the tub, inhaling the strong scent of fresh rosewater. A small window above let in the daylight, and just beyond it she could hear birds chirping prettily. Kate closed her eyes and smiled, letting out an indulgent sigh.

This was precisely the sort of thing she had needed.

She would have laid there for hours, if simple science did not dictate that the water grow cold, and therefore Kate ventured to make the most of every minute.

It was nearly enough to help her fall asleep, this newfound peace, until she heard the door to the room slam shut, only for her husband to walk right in.

Where she was bathing.

In broad daylight.

Entirely _naked_.

"Anthony!" she jolted, hurrying to cover herself, though it was a futile effort given the state she was in. “Wh— what are you doing here?"

"It's my room," he murmured, seemingly amused. "In my house. I believe I have every right to enter any room, whenever I please, do I not?"

She cleared her throat. "That very well may be true, but as you might be able to see, I'm currently in the process of bathing, so..."

“Indeed,” he looked down at her, seemingly amused at her agitation. “Thank you for bringing it up. I was thinking I might join you.”

Kate’s eyes widened, her cheeks becoming warm. That was… it…

“Bathing is an intensely private act,” she said, sinking further into the water.

"And where was this modesty last night, I wonder?"

Kate felt her cheeks grow as hot as the water had been. "That is _not_ the same thing."

He neared closer until his face was inches apart from hers, his hands gripping both sides of the tub and effectively cornering her. “How so?”

She licked her lips, forcing her gaze not to stray from his eyes. It was a difficult task.

"It just... isn’t."

It was much more intimate, for one. The things that happened in bedrooms under candlelight were often reserved _for_ bedrooms and candlelight. Not to mention the fact that Kate had intended to use this time to relax — despite how much she enjoyed what happened in those bedrooms, that’s not what she was looking for right now.

As though he could read her thoughts, Anthony smiled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. Despite herself, a flurry of butterflies sprang free at the gentle display of affection. 

“I would simply like to enjoy the act of bathing with my beautiful wife. Nothing more, nothing less. And only if she lets me.”

Kate bit her lip. The ‘no’ was on the tip of her tongue, but then again… the thought of sharing this quiet moment with Anthony made her knees weak. There was something special about it, the idea that they didn’t have to do anything specific in order to enjoy each other’s company. 

And, in truth, what _was_ she so afraid of? This was her _husband_ after all. If there was anyone in the world she could manage to be herself with, it was him.

“Alright,” she sat up, swallowing the embarrassment when her breasts rose above the water. She reminded herself that he liked them, and indeed had proven his affections dozens of times over — most recently as of last night.

He began to undress, working at the buttons of his waistcoat while Kate watched. It was enough to make the awkwardness worth it, watching the way the sun bounced off of his arms and highlighted the contours of his chest.

He grinned when he caught her staring but said nothing of it.

Once he was finally naked, he stepped into the tub on the opposite side. She didn’t need to tell him to be careful with her ankle; as soon as he sat down he lifted it up, placing it directly on his thigh.

Despite their nakedness, Kate could sense that this was no preamble to anything else — it was entirely innocent, and as they sat in a comfortable silence, she felt the insecurity and awkwardness that had plagued her dwindle away. It was replaced by a warm, pleasant feeling that settled in her chest and extended outwards as he ran a soothing hand across her leg and watched her with _those_ eyes that made her feel as though her insides were made of jam. He was good at that. 

Anthony had a knowing smile. “You see? It’s not so terrible, is it?”

The only thing Kate hated more than being forced to sit still was admitting she was wrong. She turned her head so that he might not see her smile and hummed in reluctant agreement. “I suppose.”

He pinched her calf to scold her. Kate gaped at him, splashing him with water in defense. In return he splashed water at _her_ , and — thanks in no small part to their shared competitive nature — soon enough the two of them were drenched in the warm bathwater, laughing as though they were children instead of fully grown adults.

Anthony looked ridiculous. The water was dripping off of his eyelashes, clinging to the hair on his chest, accentuating the muscle of his arms…

Alright, perhaps he did not look _ridiculous._ Quite the opposite.

But Kate felt she looked quite silly herself, doused as she was, and so it helped if she imagined that he did, too.

Either way, she felt very glad to have him here with her. 

It was a delightful thing, to love one’s husband — but it was another thing entirely for them to be your best friend as well. It was something that only a lucky few were able to truly experience.

And Kate was a very lucky woman.

“How did you know I was here, anyways?” she asked as their laughter settled and Anthony resumed his massage over her legs.

"Well, that’s quite simple. I told your maids to let me know if you tried to do anything unruly, and surely enough you tried to take a bath on a bad leg.”

Kate wanted to gasp, but in all honesty she wasn’t truly surprised. It _had_ been too good to be true when they had left without a single backward glance. She should have figured Anthony would have had something to do with it. Instead she narrowed her eyes at him. “I suppose I’ll have to slip them an extra shilling to earn their loyalty again.”

“ _Or_ you could simply let us take care of you,” he said. “Rather than fight us at every corner.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Anyways, it’s very nearly healed. One bath wasn’t going to hurt.”

Anthony leaned over to kiss her knee. “Perhaps I simply wanted the excuse to be with you. Is that so terrible?” 

There were those eyes again. And then the butterflies. 

And Kate was lost. 

Not for the first time, to be sure, but she figured she would never quite grow used to it. 

“Yes,” she smiled, being very careful with her ankle as she sat up to rearrange herself right on his lap, cradling his chin and kissing him deeply. “ _Very_ terrible, in fact, as I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy bathing alone again.” 


	5. a night at the opera (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "sex in public - the show made it clear Anthony loves that." 
> 
> rated very, very much E

It wasn’t as though Kate _loathed_ the opera.

It was only that the lights were often too bright, the company too banal, and the gaudy costumes paired with loud, sweeping arias had a habit of reminding her of—

Alright, she loathed the opera.

But she played along, for propriety’s sake. And the gossip _was_ good, if you could find the right person to chat with beforehand.

It was a good thing she’d made fast friends with Penelope Featherington. That was precisely the reason she had invited her to the opera with Anthony and some of his friends tonight.

The young lady had a penchant for noticing things about _everyone_ , it seemed, and it made for excellent conversation whenever they were together.

“Any scandals brimming on the horizon, Penelope?” Kate asked, watching the groups of people chatting with a wary gaze from where they stood. “The seasons are terribly boring without them. I would know.”

“Well...” Penelope bit her lip, her eyes floating through the crowd. “Lady Barton seems to be out of mourning.”

“Do you think she’s looking to remarry?”

Penelope pursed her lips. Kate had a feeling that if she didn’t ask her for the information Penelope would much rather keep it to herself. “Not exactly. She seems like the independent type. And… quite happy to be rid of him, if I might speak plainly.”

Kate grinned. “With me? Always.”

Lady Barton had a classic sort of beauty about her. Widowed by a much older man, she appeared to have a new lease on life. She walked with a grace that Kate could only ever dream of possessing, and judging by the looks being thrown her way by some of the men, she was not the only one to have noticed.

“What do you think she expects to gain from the season, then?” Kate asked, watching her stroll about the room, a coy smile on her face.

“Well… I mean— it’s hard to say, I guess...”

No sooner had Kate and Penelope started their discussion than Lady Barton had made her way to their corner, where Anthony and a few of his acquaintances were also located.

And Kate realized very quickly what _exactly_ Lady Barton was expecting.

At first it was her laugh. A touch louder than everyone else's, and directly squarely at Anthony, but something one would only notice if they were paying the strictest attention.

Kate attempted to shrug it off, to focus on the larger conversation at hand or engage Penelope in some other topic.

But _then_ it was the way Lady Barton's body was angled, hanging onto every word Anthony was saying with rapt attention. If he spoke, she would hum coquettishly in agreement. When he wasn't speaking, she was watching him with a curious smile. Every time she managed to catch his eye, she glowed.

Kate, on the other hand, felt her own vision growing red.

There was nothing she could do except watch and try to keep a pleasant smile as a married woman flirted openly with her husband. Whether or not Anthony noticed, Kate wasn't sure, but there was nothing in his tone that indicated the attentions were unwelcome.

Every so often, Lady Barton would inch slightly closer. And with each tiny step, Kate felt her frustration grow tenfold.

It was one thing to try to be polite. Another thing entirely to let her husband be approached so brazenly.

Kate's mind worked quickly. They were milling about in the section of the theatre where their box was located. Without thinking about it too much, she marched over, taking her husband's arm.

"Anthony," she announced, bringing herself as close to him as possible. "There is something I need to discuss with you."

He turned towards her. "Oh? Is something wrong?"

"Everything's perfectly alright," she assuaged, hoping he wouldn't fight her too much. She tugged on his sleeve. "I just... need to tell you something."

He waited for her to speak, his expression open.

"In _private,_ " she muttered. "Now, preferably?"

She tugged on his shirtsleeve and started walking, hoping he would be able to take the hint and match her pace. She led him down the hallway and into their private opera box, through the doors into the theatre.

"Alright, this seems private enough. What's wrong?" he asked, once they'd entered.

Kate cleared her throat. She hadn't thought this far ahead; indeed, the farther she got from the situation the more she felt that maybe she’d been imagining things. Perhaps she’d read Lady Barton’s body language all wrong.

Then again, maybe she _hadn’t_. Perhaps lately they had not made it clear enough how truly devoted they were to each other. Maybe Kate was feeling a bit reckless and possessive, and the idea of staking her claim had a special sort of appeal.

Kate surged forward, taking hold of the lapels of Anthony’s coat and bringing him towards her. When his lips crashed against hers, his hands instinctively circled around her waist, bringing her closer.

“Can’t a woman surprise her husband?” she said, pulling away so their lips were barely brushing against each other. “And you know how I feel about the opera. This is much more exciting, anyways.”

She resumed her seduction tactics, kissing him again and deepening it instantly, her lips tracing across his. She let her hands roam across his chest, waiting until she was certain he was as invested in this as she was to let them roam further down.

“Kate,” he warned, his voice low, but not at all unaffected. “Anyone could see us.”

This was true; to their left, their opera box looked out into a grand, sprawling theatre of gilded seats and lush, velvet drapes. The show hadn’t started yet — wasn't set to begin for at least a half hour — and as such there were few bodies out in the seating area, but it was still very possible that a random passerby might notice them. That anyone walking in the stands below, or sitting in a box nearby, would hear them.

Kate raised an eyebrow at her husband. A challenge.

“Is that a problem?”

Beneath her, where the skirts of her dress met his breeches, Kate felt the firm press of his arousal twitch. It would have made her laugh, his eagerness, but it only emboldened her further. The thought that anyone passing by would know what they were doing — that they might hear them both in the throes of their passion — lit a match that flickered in her gut until it was _everywhere_.

Anthony pulled her closer, his lips finding the specific spot under her ear that he knew made her swoon. She would have a bruise there soon, surely. She liked the idea of that.

"I’ve always known you were daring, my love, but _this_...."

Begrudgingly, Kate pulled away, her breaths already impossibly ragged. Her hands were working ahead of her, reaching for the buttons of his breeches and pulling down gently. "You have no idea," she said against his lips.

In an instant she was on her knees in front of him, a strand of hair that had come undone tickling her cheek as she looked up at him between her lashes. Already, she knew she looked disheveled, perhaps beyond repair.

It did little to stop her.

Anthony’s eyes widened when she didn’t hesitate. She took him in hand at first, teasing and experimenting, using his soft grunts and moans as her guide. She could tell that he was trying not to be too loud, to not draw any unwanted attention, and it only made her more aroused to witness his attempts at self-control.

It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, but it certainly _felt_ like it. The eagerness, the excitement, the passion — they were all exponentially stronger given the risk that someone might barge in on them at any moment.

He sucked in a harsh breath when she finally took him in her mouth, his hand cradling her jaw.

There was a special sort of power in it, in being the person made to elicit this reaction from him. In knowing that they both existed to elicit these reactions for _each other._

And it felt _good._

She knew exactly what he liked, and she knew exactly how to do it — as such, it did not take her great pains to turn the proud, noble Viscount into a disheveled mess above her.

“Kate, you…” Anthony grunted, looking down at her with pupils so dark she could have sworn they were made of obsidian. “You’re doing so well. You always... do so well.”

Kate smiled around him as her body begged for more, desperate for contact, for friction, for _something,_ even as she was singularly focused on guiding him towards his release. When they did this at home, it was often much more languid, unhurried. A delicate act that easily led to more.

But they weren’t at home, and they certainly did not have the luxury of taking their time now.

Kate knew very well she would likely not reach the same satisfaction as Anthony before the show, but there was also pleasure enough in giving without the expectation of receiving; it was intoxicating and maddening all on its own.

Anthony took care not to tug on her hair too harshly, lest he undo the style entirely and _truly_ beholden them both to absolute ruin, but his thumb ran across her flushed cheeks in a soft gesture of affection.

“Kate, please, I’m— I’m going to…” he gasped, his hips bucking against her. “I don’t know if I can…”

She nodded, humming against his erection and urging him forward. She flicked her eyes up towards his, and that split second of eye contact was all the notice Anthony needed to truly let go, muffling the sound of his groans by burying his face in his arm as she took him in, being very careful not to make a mess of things.

He’d never spilled into her mouth before, but surely it was the only solution given the situation at hand. Surprising even herself, Kate found she didn’t quite mind it — and it added to the urgency of their tryst, in any case.

She was still frustratingly eager, her body aching and wanting, but it was no matter — she’d make sure he repaid the favor later. In full.

Once she cleaned herself off, she stood right back up as though nothing had happened at all, pleasantly taking in Anthony’s sated gaze as he buttoned his breeches. He looked nearly drunk with it, and Kate was pliant as she let herself be swept right back into his arms where he nuzzled her collarbone.

There was absolutely nowhere else in the world she wanted to be.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he murmured, his hand absently roaming to find her bottom and squeezing gently. “You know that, don’t you?”

“And here I thought I already had,” she teased, pulling away and frowning. “Are you telling me there is still work to be done?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “Only that you keep finding new ways to do it, and it feels like a new sort of ruin every single time.”

She knew precisely what he meant, because he had a tendency of making her feel the exact same way. Kate could have never imagined the things she’d do with Anthony, the lengths he brought her to — he’d ruined her just as much. Irreparably so.

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning upwards to kiss him again.

He smiled against her lips, pressing a chaste kiss against them for finality’s sake before pulling away entirely. “I love you, too.”

“Ah, here they are,” someone said, just as the door to their box opened, the candlelight from the hallway streaming in. All of Anthony’s invited friends walked in along with Penelope. Even Lady Barton had followed, on the arm of one of the young men, her target officially shifted.

Kate felt the heat in her cheeks bloom again as they all chuckled, but the girlish satisfaction did soften the blow somewhat.

Still, she clutched Anthony’s arm tighter.

“These two,” one of them said, rolling their eyes. “Can’t get their hands off of each other.”

“They’re lucky it was us that came in,” another commented.

“Is _this_ what marriage is like? If so, I might be on the market after all…”

Penelope merely giggled, primly taking her seat.

Kate was suddenly very grateful for the show that was about to begin. Perhaps the theatre was not entirely without merit.

Anthony would certainly never look at one the same way, at least. Kate couldn’t quite keep the smile off of her face once she realized _that_.

Once they were situated in their respective seats along with the rest of London, they sat with their backs straight and their chins high, like a proper lady and gentleman. Below them, though, their hands were clasped together, resting safely and hidden from view on Kate’s lap.

Their little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will write something wholesome and pure next ok dont look at me thx


	6. soft but protective!anthony (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "I know it’s been done loads, but I just adore protective!anthony fics after the carriage incident and would love to read your interpretation of it"

Kate felt Anthony before she saw him.

She hadn’t yet opened her eyes, her body still clinging stubbornly to the very last bits of sleep that were left, when she felt the warm press of his lips against her forehead.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

She could smell the fresh biscuits and preserves that Anthony had brought into the room on a silver tray, much like he had done everyday for the past week or so since the accident.

There were few things Kate enjoyed about being confined to her bed as her ankle slowly healed, but one thing was true: her husband was a very, very good nurse.

Kate hummed indulgently, pulling the covers close to her as she watched him set up a tray with her breakfast, strikingly handsome in the morning light. “Good morning.”

He was only half-dressed himself in a shirt and waistcoat, his neck bare and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. She loved seeing him like this, at ease and relaxed. As though the two of them were the only people in the world.

In this tiny world they'd created in their bedroom as she healed, it almost felt like they were. 

They had both needed to adjust, in the first few days after the accident. The pain had been most severe then, and Anthony had been beside himself with worry, slipping spoonfuls of laudanum into her mouth every few hours and verifying with any professional that would lend an ear that her ankle was the only issue. Anthony had made it very clear that _he_ was to be Kate’s caretaker, and as such it was up to him to see to her daily needs.

Soon enough, the pain had settled into something slightly more manageable, and thus their new routine had formed.

“Tea?”

“Please,” she said, sitting up and dabbing at her face with the washcloth on the table closest to her. Anthony had set up a makeshift desk near her side of the bed, and that was where the tray was currently located.

Kate smiled as she watched Anthony wordlessly pour her a cup, setting it on a tiny dish with biscuits, just the way she liked it.

Oh, he believed himself the rogue, absolutely. And there was surely a time when Kate would have enthusiastically agreed. But the more she came to understand him — the more they came to understand _each other_ — the clearer it became to Kate that while it might have been the persona he’d chosen to show the world, the person within was wholly kind and generous. One that only a lucky few were able to truly see.

“Here we are,” he said, taking the tray and placing it on her lap. “What would you like first?”

Kate bit her lip, smiling up at him. "You know, if I recall correctly, it was only my ankle that was injured," she said, waving her hands in a show of their dexterity. "I can feed myself."

Anthony tsked. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. It is of the utmost importance that you rest as much as possible."

When he raised a biscuit to her mouth she took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just enjoy the idea of feeding me.”

“I’ll happily admit it, so long as you don’t tell my secrets.” He winked at her with a charm and suavity that she was sure had made many a young lady weak in the knees in the past — only now, they were reserved just for her.

“My lips are sealed,” she smiled, leaning over to kiss him.

After breakfast had been cleared away and Kate had changed into a new shift, the two of them took their places: Kate lying on the bed, her foot raised while she tried to read or embroider or answer correspondence; Anthony at his makeshift desk, his concentration torn between any important documents he’d brought from his study and Kate’s comfort.

It was almost amusing: if she so much as sighed too despondently, he was up in an instant, asking if there was anything she needed, if the pain was alright, what he might do to make her feel better.

Most of the time, everything was fine — but Kate would have been lying if she claimed not to use this condition to her advantage.

For example, if she dropped pillows so that he might get up and replace them, guaranteeing that he might kiss her upon their replacement, well… she couldn’t very well be blamed for that.

And if she groaned about pain even when there was none so that he would adorably furrow his brow in worry and concentration, massaging her leg briefly to assuage her discomfort, it was merely her right as a patient, she believed.

Anthony was spending all of his time there, after all. He needed to feel useful. Really, she was doing _him_ a favor.

At least, that was what she told herself.

“Anthony,” she mumbled, capturing his hand. “Would you…”

He stood up before she could get the words out, his hands ruffling the pillows behind her and mindlessly resting on her shoulders. “Yes? What do you need?”

She placed her book down in her lap, pouting in an act of meek helplessness. “I’ve grown tired of reading alone. Would you mind reading to me instead?”

He took the book from her and studied the title. “And this is a medical necessity?”

Kate smiled sweetly. “Indeed.”

She knew he wasn’t entirely fooled — never was, if she were being honest — and he seemed to know that she knew, but that didn’t stop him from taking a seat by her side anyways and opening the book to where she had last opened it.

_“The night was dark and stormy as Mrs. Eversham’s carriage rattled away from the bustling streets of London…”_

As he read, Kate had to admit that she wasn’t really paying attention to the contents of the novel.

How could she, when there was so much else to focus on — Anthony’s concentrated stare as he read, the way his lips moved to form the words on the page, the movement of his bare neck whenever he swallowed or spoke. _That_ was much more entertaining than whatever was happening in the book.

When he was finished he snapped the book shut, bringing Kate back to reality and drawing her gaze away from his forearms — they were lethal, really, it wasn’t at all fair — before turning towards her.

“How was that? Did I do well?” He asked, looking a little bit like Newton when he was looking for a treat.

“You did wonderfully,” she beamed, pulling him closer to her. “ _So_ wonderfully, in fact, that I think you deserve a reward.”

“Oh?”

“Not just for the reading, I suppose,” she bit her lip, shifting and dragging him down so that he was sitting on the bed next to her. “But for everything, really… taking care of me, staying by my side everyday. You _do_ know you don’t have to do all of that, don’t you? We have a lot of help.”

“As if I would ever let anyone else try,” he said. His hand moved to cradle her chin. “You might be surprised to hear this, Kate, but I do this — work beside you, read to you, feed you, entertain your fancies and tricks — because I enjoy spending time with you, even if we aren’t doing anything special. Just existing with you is enough.”

His fingers were running soft circles around her waist, the thin fabric of her shift doing little to mitigate the intoxicating feeling. “ _And_ taking care of you is my first priority, of course.”

Kate felt her chest grow warm. The accident had been a most unfortunate event, but ever since it had happened — ever since Anthony had told her he _loved_ her — it was like they had gotten married all over again. Now that they could both bask freely in this new, beautiful thing that perfumed the air and sweetened pastries, making the grass a little greener and the sky a bit bluer.

“What would I do without you?” Kate whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Continue to be a plague on society, most likely,” he grinned, leaning over so that he was lying next to her on the bed and snaking an arm around her waist, very careful not to hurt her ankle. “It’s a good thing I'm here to keep you in line. Master of the house, and all that.”

“You _wish_ ,” she scoffed, pushing him away from her gently, only for him to cling to her tighter. “I will continue to be a plague upon society, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.”

“I know,” he said, planting a kiss on her brow. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kate leaned into his embrace, closing her eyes. Perhaps they might take a nap; they were certainly at their leisure to do so.

“Now, about that reward…”

She grinned. “The _reward_ is— well, I was going to let you choose. Is there anything you’d like in particular?”

“I can think of a few things,” he murmured, kissing his way down her neck. “How much time do we have?”

Kate giggled when he reached a particularly ticklish spot. “All the time in the world, I suppose.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @prncesselene  
> twitter @hidingsolo
> 
> i hope you enjoyed! i'd love to hear what you think <3 
> 
> i'll be updating periodically as i work through the prompts!


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